


Visions of Persimmon

by KaiBlueOtaku



Series: Resolution!'verse [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Gen, Illnesses, Light Angst, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1844596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiBlueOtaku/pseuds/KaiBlueOtaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the Winter War, Rangiku Matsumoto mourns the loss of her childhood friend, Gin Ichimaru.  But the nightmares that plague her may be more than just dreams, and could ultimately hold the key to mending her broken heart. Canon Setting, AU plot divergence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: A Breeze in the Boughs

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Bleach and all its characters are owned by the talented Tite Kubo. I own only my story, and am merely borrowing them to tell it. I receive no payment for my writing.
> 
> A/N: No real warnings on this one, maybe some rude language, and alcohol use/abuse.

                Rangiku Matsumoto stared listlessly, observing two sparrows perched on the branch of a cherry tree just outside the window.  Lazy clouds drifted by, and a soft breeze blew still more petals from the blossoms that hung heavy on the limbs.  She emptied her cup of sake, and refilled it immediately from the bottle on her desk.

                “Matsumoto, have you finished those…”  The short, white-haired young man who surveyed the scene from the doorway began to quiver with rage.  “Matsumoto!  This is unacceptable!  Not only are your reports not completed, but you’re _drunk?_   In the middle of the afternoon?  Honestly…”  The captain of the Tenth Squad, Toshiro Hitsugaya, turned abruptly on his heel and stormed back out of his lieutenant’s office.  “Finish your reports, Matsumoto,” he called back over his shoulder, “or I’m going to write you up for insubordination this time.”  He slammed the shoji door.

                “Yes, _Taicho…_ ”  Matsumoto’s voice was a ragged whisper, and a tear streaked hotly down her cheek before she wiped it away on the black sleeve of her shihakusho.  Since returning from Hueco Mundo, and the defeat of Sosuke Aizen at the finale of the Winter War, Matsumoto had been unable to focus on her work.  More correct perhaps, would be the statement that, since Gin Ichimaru had died in her arms during the bloodbath resulting from that battle, that her heart had been troubled.

                Matsumoto and Gin had been childhood friends, growing up together in the poverty-stricken Rukongai District 64.  They had always known a deep, loyal love for one another, but it had not been until he lay broken, bleeding, and fading in her arms, that Matsumoto had come to grasp fully all of the things that had been left unsaid between them.  The tears that had fallen on his face that day from her eyes had been too few, and the time too short, to encompass the words that she regretfully realized had gone unspoken between them for so long, that before she knew it, it was too late to say them at all.

                Matsumoto heaved a heavy sigh, picking up her brush and dipping it in a golden tray of ink, turning her attention finally to the tall stack of papers piled on her desk.  She dully scanned over the documents, leaving her signature where it was required, checking that all the fields were filled in before setting the page in her ‘out’ box and moving to the next page.  And the next.  And the next.

                Her numbness could have just as easily been caused by the sake as by the anguish in her heart, but the next page that came under her brush stroke caused her to gasp.  Everything snapped into sharp, almost surreal clarity around her as she read the words on the page in disbelief.  _Regarding the exile,_ _Urahara Kisuke, having been tried by Central 46 and found guilty of the resurrection of two of the Espada lieutenants of the traitor Sosuke Aizen;  The resurrected Arrancar in question have been determined to pose little to no threat to Soul Society, as they inhabit Gigai, thus possessing none of their former abilities or power.  They shall be permitted to exist until such a time as that they cause particular breach in law, at which point they may be dealt with accordingly.   Kisuke Urahara shall be served with a cease and desist order regarding his experimental activities pertaining to any and all further resurrections of deceased Espada or Arrancar.  Please indicate a suitable Shinigami to deliver this order by hand._

The word ‘resurrected’ rang hauntingly in Matsumoto’s ears.  She could not grasp the full implications of her actions, but a desperate hope welled up in her as, in the empty field to the side of the paragraph, Matsumoto filled the name of the Shinigami to complete the task.  _Rangiku Matsumoto._

Could it be true?  She couldn’t fathom any reason that the shop keeper would have brought Espada back from the dead, but there it was, before her very eyes, in black and white.  _I have to speak to him,_ she resolved.  _Maybe…_ She sighed tremulously, stuffing the elation back down into the depths of her heart with a choked sob.  She was terrified to allow herself to get too excited.  She couldn’t take the heartbreak of thinking she had maybe found a way to get him back, and then finding out that it wasn’t possible.  She wasn’t knowledgeable of all the finer technological intricacies regarding the abilities of the former Head of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute, but she knew that he was a genius, able to work wonders, and had little doubt that if this report said he had done it, that surely he had.

                Completing the rest of Matsumoto’s back-log of paperwork took her into the evening, the flickering flames of oil lamps lighting her pages as she finished up the last of the reports with a stretch.

                “Oi, Rangiku, are you still working?”  The straw-hat topped head of Shunsui Kyoraku poked through the doorway of her office.  “Don’t you know what time it is?”

                 “Oh, I know, Shunsui-san,” she replied with a smile, rubbing at her bleary eyes and yawning.  “I let myself get behind a bit.”

                Kyoraku regarded her for a moment, and darkness flickered through his eyes.  “I am sorry, Rangiku-san,” he said softly.  Her eyes lifted to his in shock, but her face softened as she understood his meaning.  No one had really bothered to console her on her loss, because it seemed nobody had realized how deeply it had cut her until now.  The clear, grey eyes of the Eighth Division’s Captain had pierced to the heart of the matter through.  “Are you alright?”

                Matsumoto sighed.  “I haven’t been sleeping well.  When I _can_ sleep, I have nightmares…”  She reached for the bottle of sake, still sitting on her desk.  Captain Hitsugaya couldn’t belittle her a drink after staying so late, and completing her reports, she reasoned.

                “May I join you?” Shunsui asked lazily, producing a bottle of his own from somewhere in his shihakusho.  Matsumoto motioned toward some cushions in a small sitting area, and Shunsui flopped down, revealing that, as usual, he was already somewhat intoxicated.  “Maybe you should go see Unohana?  She probably has some kind of sedative tea she could give you, to help you sleep.”

                “Hn…”  Matsumoto sipped from her cup as she swayed across the room and dropped onto a cushion beside Shunsui.  “I still have plenty of sake.”

                The brown-haired captain chucked musically.  “You won’t sleep restfully if you drink until you pass out.”

                She filled her cup again, and looked at him critically.  “What about you, hn?  You’re drunk all the time…”

                Shunsui nodded his head in agreement.  “Yes.  And I sleep all the time, too.”  He tossed Matsumoto a sluggish grin, and tipped his chin down.  “It’s not very restful sleep.”

                She sighed, and swirled her cup.  “My heart is troubled whether awake or asleep.  He haunts my dreams.”

                “Tell me,” Shunsui urged her, shifting closer to her, leaning on his elbow as he reclined against the cushions, his face becoming very attentive.

                Matsumoto closed her eyes, recalling the visions that had plagued her nightly.  “He sits in the cemetery in Karakura Town.  There is a chain around him, and he is bound with it.  I cannot go to him, I am not in the dreams myself, I only observe him there.  He waits.”  She sighed.  “I know not what for.”

                Shunsui scrutinized her, his face growing somber.  “Are these dreams, or visions?”

                Matsumoto opened her eyes, and looked sadly to him.  “I don’t know.  But he’s trapped.  He can’t go anywhere.”

                The captain scratched at his scruffy beard.  “You really should go see Unohana in the morning, and find out about getting a tea or something to help you sleep at night.”  He thought for a moment.  “Where does the chain go?”

                Matsumoto shrugged, sipping her cup.  “I can’t tell, it just trails off somewhere.  I’ve never seen where it comes from or leads to.”

                Shunsui nodded agreeably.  “Fair enough.  Next time, see if you can pay attention and find out.”

                “Why, does it matter?”  Matsumoto cocked her head curiously.

                Shunsui smiled with that relaxed manner of his and gestured dismissively.  “Oh, no matter, I’m just curious.”   Matsumoto seemed to take the answer easily enough, for which he was greatly relieved.  He decided he would have to speak with Unohana himself in the morning, hopefully before Matsumoto did, and give her warning about these peculiar ‘dreams’ the lieutenant was complaining about.  He didn’t want to worry Matsumoto any further, but something about them didn’t sit quite well with him.

                They drank and talked until early morning, the conversation eventually turning to more lighthearted reminiscing of times gone by.  Shunsui told flamboyant stories to make Matsumoto laugh, because he could see how profoundly she was in need of something to ease the deep strain on her soul.  When she finally nodded off, he situated her more comfortably, and draped his pink flowered kimono over her as a makeshift blanket.  He knew she would return it after waking, and with any luck, she would already have visited the Fourth Division’s Captain by then, and maybe he would be able to get some more information indirectly in this fashion.

                Shunsui lifted the stack of completed reports from Matsumoto’s ‘out’ box, and took them into the main office, moving them to the ‘in’ box on the Captain’s desk.  A few pages fluttered as he moved them, and as he shuffled them back into order, his eyes landed on a particular report of interest.  He scanned the details, and then slipped this page in amidst the stack to a less conspicuous location.

                The Eighth Squad Captain fashioned a little sign from a scrap of paper, and hung it on the door to Matsumoto’s office, writing, “Do not disturb, by order of Division 8 Captain Shunsui Kyoraku.”  If he knew Hitsugaya, it wouldn’t carry any weight, but it was worth trying.  The poor woman needed some rest, if she could take it.  As he wandered back to his own chambers in the Eighth Squad barracks, he considered the lightening of the sky already to the east, and made a last minute stop to see if Unohana was up yet.

                Just his luck, Unohana and her lieutenant, Isane Kotetsu, were leading an impromptu Sunrise Tai Chi class in the courtyard of their barracks.  Shunsui milled about in the gateway, leaning against the wall and waiting for Unohana to notice him.

                It didn’t take long, and she nodded to Isane to continue without her as she made her way over.  “Good morning, Captain Shunsui!” she greeted him sweetly, with a gentle smile.  “To what do I owe the honor of such an early-morning visit?”

                “I’m concerned about Rangiku-san,” he told her, his seriousness catching to Unohana’s own expression in an instant.  “She’s been troubled since returning from Karakura Town, with nightmares.  About _him_.”  Her deep blue eyes glistened with understanding as he went on.  “She told me she dreams he’s wrapped in a chain in a cemetery, trapped there.  Something about it…”  Shunsui shuddered a little in the early morning breeze.

                Unohana nodded thoughtfully.  “Indeed, that is worrisome.  I can see your cause for concern.  I’ll speak with her today, thank you, _Taicho_.”

                “Discretely, please,” Shunsui urged her.  “I don’t want to alarm her unnecessarily; she’s already under great strain from her grief.  I suggested to her that you might be able to provide her with something to help her sleep, so she should come by sometime today.”

                Unohana bowed with a smile.  “Thank you, Shunsui-san.  I will be expecting her.”

WWWWWWWWWW

                _Gin was perched on the stone grave markers of the cemetery.  The chain that wrapped around his waist also kept his arms pinned down to his sides.  He appeared despondent, staring listlessly off into nowhere, as he always did in these dreams she had of him.  Matsumoto had a moment of lucidity, and remembered to look around for the ends of the chain that bound him.  As she focused, she was able to see it winding between the grave markers, and it led down the path out of the cemetery, to her vantage point where it seemed to continue somewhere outside her field of vision._

_Gin looked up unexpectedly, and seemed to peer straight in her direction with serious curiosity.  She thought for a moment that she heard him calling her name in a distantly whispered voice.  He wrapped his fingers in the chain that draped down to the ground, and cracked it like a whip, a wave travelling down it to where it vanished…  And she felt it yank painfully at her chest._

WWWWWWWWWW

                Matsumoto awoke, bolting upright in a cold sweat, her hand flying to her cleavage where the ache still lingered bodily from the troublesome turn of events in her dream.  This had been the first time he had ever responded in any way to her presence, and it was disconcerting.

                The light through the window let her know it was late, approaching noon if not after already, and she scrambled to her feet, alarmed.  The pink, floral kimono that fell to the ground reminded her of the evening she had spent in the good company of Shunsui, and she realized she would have to take it back to him, and thank him for his kindness.

                There was a note on her desk, and she wandered over to read what it said.  _Matsumoto; Thank you for staying late to finish your paperwork.  Please take the day off, and return tomorrow after you are rested and in a more productive and focused state of mind. Signed, Division 10 Captain, Hitsugaya Toshiro._

Matsumoto sighed with defeat.  She knew it was the most she could have expected from her captain.  His personality was almost as cold as his Bankai, and coming from him, this could be considered more than generous.  Knowing she could use the extra rest anyways, she slung Shunsui’s kimono over her arm and headed out to go take care of returning the loaned garment.

                Passing by the Fourth Division barracks on her way, Matsumoto remembered that she was supposed to speak with Unohana about some sedative tea, so she wandered in to the main office.  Unohana was seated at a low table, putting the finishing touches on an _ikebana_ arrangement.  She smiled up at Matsumoto warmly as the lieutenant entered.  “Good afternoon, Matsumoto-san.  Your visit was well-timed, you’ve saved me the errand of delivering this to you.”  Unohana stood and handed the floral sculpture to the other woman.  “Just a little get-well gift,” she offered as explanation.  “Shunsui-san stopped by this morning to let me know you’ve been having trouble sleeping of late.  Come in and sit down, let me have a look at you.”  She invited the other woman toward her desk chair with a hospitable, sweeping gesture.

                Matsumoto came in and took a seat in the straight-backed, western style chair.  The Fourth Division captain tipped up Matsumoto’s chin, looking deeply into her eyes.  “How frequently have you been having the nightmares?”  She touched gently on the darkening circles that were beginning to gather under Matsumoto’s eyes, telltale signs of her regularly disturbed nights.

                “Every night since,” she sighed.  Unohana hummed in agreement, coming behind the chair and feeling around Matsumoto’s neck and throat, palpating her lymph nodes.  “Last night was different than usual, though.”  Unohana’s clear blue eyes narrowed, and she listened carefully as Matsumoto recounted her dream in vivid detail.  Her hand slid down over the long blond hair of the woman seated in front of her, to press against her back, between her shoulder blades.  Unohana’s fingertips glowed green with _kaido_ as she attempted to flow healing Reiatsu into Matsumoto’s weary body.

                But deep within, Unohana sensed resistance.  _Almost as if the wounds of her heart and spirit are contaminated with some other type of Reiatsu, displacing her own…  But this is strange, unlike anything I have felt before._ Unohana fed what _kaido_ she could to mend the weariness of Matsumoto’s body, but her lips tightened with her unease, growing exponentially in light of the information she had gained from their conversation.

                “I will give you some tea to help you sleep, but there is little more I can do, at this point.”  Unohana’s voice carried a thread of tension that worried the lieutenant.  “There seems to be some sort of foreign Reiatsu lodged in you.  You might wish to go visit Captain Kurotsuchi, at the Shinigami Research and Development Institute…  Perhaps he has a method of removing the unidentified energy.”

                Matsumoto turned to Unohana and crinkled her nose.  “I’d rather just deal with it, than deal with Mayuri.  He’ll probably turn me into a goat or something.”

                Unohana tittered musically, lifting her hand to her mouth.  “Oh dear, I don’t think his abilities are quite that potent!”  She sobered after a moment.  “Really though, Matsumoto-san…  I do need you to go and be seen.  I don’t mean to alarm you, but this could be something serious.”

                Matsumoto made a sour face, but then brightened suddenly.  “What about Urahara-san?”

                Unohana appeared thoughtful for a moment.  “Yes, I suppose he might be able to help in regards to this issue…  But I do insist that you are seen, by one or the other of them, as quickly as is reasonably possible.”

                Matsumoto nodded.  “I will, Unohana-san, thank you for your help.”  She stood to leave, but the captain touched her elbow.

                “Don’t forget your tea,” she reminded the other woman, and pressed a bag of medicinal herbs into the hand not occupied by the flower arrangement.

                As Matsumoto made her way over to the Eighth Squad’s barracks and the office of Captain Shunsui, something was nagging at the back of her mind that she couldn’t seem to put her finger on.  It was a stroke of good fortune that Unohana wanted her to be seen by Urahara, she decided, when she was already trying to get over to ask him about resurrecting Gin.  Hopefully, her luck would hold, and that would be enough to tip the scales in her favor if her own captain blew up when he saw that she had listed herself as the messenger to deliver the “cease and desist” order to Urahara.

                As she approached Shunsui’s office, she heard familiar raised voices, and cringed internally.  _Oh no, Captain Hitsugaya has beaten me here!_   She considered eavesdropping outside the door, but at the last moment she knocked and just went in, deciding it would be better to face the reprimand she was sure that she had coming, head-on.

                Toshiro stood, arms folded, opposite Shunsui, who was leaned lazily back against his desk.  They both turned toward Matsumoto when she intruded, and she could see the report in her captain’s hand.  The scowl on his face caused her stomach to knot.  “Oh, hello _Taicho,_ Shunsui-san.”  She hoped her brightness fooled them, though she doubted it.  “I was just returning your kimono, Shunsui-san.  Thank you for your company last night.  I…  I really needed someone to talk to.”  The last bit sort of slipped out without her realizing it, and the sadness in her tone was palpable.  She glanced up at the two captains as she handed the garment to Shunsui, and she saw the look on Hitsugaya’s face soften unexpectedly.

                He let out a sigh, and furrowed his brow as he shut his intense green eyes in irritation.  “Matsumoto, would you please clarify for me, what is the meaning of this?”  He waved the report toward her, and her voice caught in her throat.

                “I was trying to explain to Toshiro-san that you’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” Shunsui supplied, much to Matsumoto’s relief.  “A change of atmosphere might do you some good.”

                “It’s true, _Taicho,_ ” she agreed hurriedly, thankful for the assistance Shunsui had offered in explaining herself.  “I’ve just come from visiting Captain Unohana, and even she’s concerned.  She’s asked me to go to be seen by Urahara.”  She waved the package of herbs as proof, and hoped the half-truth of her words would hold water; Matsumoto desperately did _not_ want to be examined by Division Twelve’s captain, under any circumstances.  “I can deliver the letter and have Urahara perform his tests all in the same trip; it would be much more efficient than sending another Shinigami.”  She saw a glint in Hitsugaya’s eye that indicated to her that he was just about to relent on the matter, so she gave a final, gentle nudge.  “And I _could_ use a change of pace…”

                Hitsugaya gave a frustrated sigh of resignation, laying the report on the corner of the desk.  “Fine.  But he had better get something figured out.  I expect you to return from your little excursion with your head on straight, Matsumoto.”  He stalked past her and out the office door, calling back, “Pick up the letter you’re to deliver at the Captain Commander’s office.”

                Matsumoto and Shunsui both breathed a sigh of relief when Hitsugaya was gone, and then laughed at each other.  “My my, I thought he would never leave,” Shunsui said, scratching at his scruffy beard.  “He was pretty riled up when he saw that report, and he knew I had been there last night, so he thought I had something to do with it, or at least maybe knew about it.”

                “Thank you,” Matsumoto told him, looking down sadly.  “For everything.  You’ve been more than kind to me.”

                “It’s nothing,” Shunsui assured her with a dismissive wave and a smile.  “You just needed a friend, that’s all.”  He saw the tears brimming Matsumoto’s eyes, and he reached out a hand to tilt her chin up.  “Here now, what’s this?”

                “My Captain doesn’t understand what I’m going through,” Matsumoto muttered bitterly, blinking hard to keep her emotions at bay.  “You seem like the only one, actually, who is sympathetic right now to me.”

                “Gin will understand.  I think that’s the problem, dear.  You need to talk to _him_.”

                “Gin is gone,” she whispered hollowly, and tears streaked down her cheeks in hot trails.

                “Deceased, yes.  But _gone_ …”  Something in Shunsui’s tone caused Matsumoto to look up and stare hard at him.  “Maybe not _gone_ …”  He eyed her with a deep wisdom in those stormy, grey orbs.  “Have you not considered that your dreams are more than dreams, Rangiku-san?  That perhaps Gin actually _is_ trapped somewhere?”

                Her breath stalled in her throat, and her eyes widened as she stared off, her mind spinning crazily with possibility.  “That’s not…  But…  I had _hoped_ something like that, but I never imagined…”

                Shunsui picked up the paper that had been left on the corner of his desk by the departing Hitsugaya.  “I saw the report last night.  Between what you’ve told me and this, I think that going to see Urahara is exactly the course of action for you to be taking at the moment.”  He gave her a knowing gaze.  “But from the look of things, I think that you’ve already figured this out.”  Matsumoto blushed a little at having been found out so quickly by the astute captain, but nodded in silent agreement.  “Just out of curiosity…  Why is Unohana-san sending you to Urahara?”

                Matsumoto chuckled, wiping at her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her shihakusho.  “Because I refuse to be seen by Mayuri.  That was my other option.”

                Shunsui’s eyes widened, and he chuckled with her.  “Good for you.  He’s a genius, but questionable motives and methods, at best.”  He tugged a handkerchief from his sleeve, and passed it to the blonde woman, earning him a thank you from her.  “Exiled or not, I would put my trust in Kisuke over Mayuri any day of the week.”

                Matsumoto nodded, drying her eyes and passing the handkerchief back to the captain.  “Thank you again.  You’ve been a good friend to me during this difficult time, Shunsui.”

                He smiled, and patted her on the shoulder.  “There, there, now.  Kisuke will know how to sort all this out.  Get on your way, and go to visit him.” 

                She smiled and nodded, leaving to head back to the Captain Commander’s office, to retrieve the letter.  It was very official looking, emblazoned with the seal of the Division 1 Captain.  Matsumoto tucked it into her shihakusho, and returned to her own room to put the flower sculpture away.  She decided that she had enough time before leaving to take a short nap, and brewed herself a cup of tea from a portion of the herbs that Unohana had given her.  The sweet, smoky flavor of whatever mixture she had used, washed a sense of peace over Rangiku that she hadn’t known in some time, and she finished drinking the cup then headed over to her bed, already feeling drowsy.  She pulled the letter out of her uniform and opened the drawer of her night stand, laying the letter in there so it did not get rumpled by her sleeping on it.  She fell on the bed and curled up, and within moments, was out like a light.

WWWWWWWWWW

                _She could smell the smoke from the incense that was being burned at the shrine, a sweet and heavy scent that washed over her as she walked up to the gate of the cemetery.  Gin was standing at the end of the path, watching her with curiosity, slowly reeling in the long chain that connected the two of them, spooling it at his feet.  He did not yank on it this time, which Matsumoto was thankful for.  Her chest had ached for a long time after waking up, the last time._

_As she neared him, she suddenly passed into a thick, hazy mist.  It had not been there a moment before, or so she had thought…  But then she got the feeling that it had actually been there all along, and she had never been able to see it until now.  She realized that as she neared Gin, that he must have been invisibly surrounded in this mist, and had been unable to see her through it._

_A hand gripped her arm, and there was blistering white-hot pain where the fingers pressed into her skin.  She looked up and saw Gin.  He watched her intently, his mouth moving but no words were coming out of it.  “Gin, are you alright?” she asked him, feeling tears beginning to well up at her eyes.  He opened his right eye, revealing the beautiful ice-blue iris there.  But sadness overtook his face as he opened the other eye, his left one.  It was also the left hand which gripped her arm so searingly, and Matsumoto choked._

_His other eye displayed a black sclera, with a golden iris._

_He was becoming a Hollow._

_She reached for him, tears pouring down both their faces as she pulled him into a kiss.  She heard his voice in her mind then, an urgent whisper as she felt helplessly drawn away from him at the beckoning of the waking world._

_“Hurry…”_

WWWWWWWWWW

                Matsumoto woke again in a cold sweat.  If she felt more rested from the effects of the tea, her emotional distress masked it.  She realized there were tears staining her face, and that she had been actually crying in her sleep.  She reached for the letter that lay in the open drawer of her night stand, and as she pulled it out, a crumpled up piece of paper beneath it drew her attention.

                She lifted it out, heavier than she had expected, and carefully unfolded it.  What she saw made her break down in unrestrained sobbing all over again.

                They were dried persimmons.

                She remembered Gin giving these to her.  They were the shared favorite food of the both of them, ever since they had been friends as little kids.  He had stopped by her office one day, not long before he had followed Aizen to Hueco Mundo.  The crumpled up paper was a pathetic wrapping, but he had handed it to her with a genuine smile, one that he only ever gave to her, she knew.

                “Ah brought ya somethin,” he’d said upon presenting her with the package.  She had opened it with a smile, and pulled out one of the pieces of dried fruit, breaking it in half, and giving part to him.  They had eaten it together in silence, and then he spoke words that took her mind back many, many years, to when they had both been young children.  “D’ya remember why ah became a Shinigami, Rangiku?”  He waited for a reply, but she was watching him carefully.  Questions like these from her friend were seldom very straightforward.  He had a way of speaking indirectly, even with her, though when it was just the two of them he was always less guarded.  When she did not speak, he sighed.  “Persimmon fruit, when it’s young, is very bitter,” he said, dropping his accent as he held a piece of the dried fruit aloft, examining it.  “It’s only when it’s ripe, that it transforms, and the sweetness of it can be properly enjoyed.”  He pressed the fruit back into its paper wrapping, and folded the paper over it, pausing with his hand laid over it for a moment.  “People sometimes misunderstand, and think that the drying process involves letting the fruit rot…  But that’s not the case.  Rot indicates the presence of insects, fungus…  Impurities.”  He looked up at her and opened his eyes slightly, flashing that brilliant blue from under a shock of silvery hair.  “That would produce something unwholesome.  The fruit is changed by the process, but it is not made unwholesome.  The drying process requires much patience, and time.  Though the original qualities of the fruit are gone, the final product…  Is safe…”  He sighed sadly, and turned from her.  “Enjoy those,” he murmured.  “I made them just for you, Rangiku.”

                As she sat on the edge of her bed remembering, she was crying again.  She hadn’t realized the significance of his words, at the time.  He had been speaking of himself, and the sacrifice he had made, in order to try to assure that she was never again hurt by the likes of Aizen.  Everyone else just thought he was deranged, power hungry, wanted the Hogyoku for himself.  They still thought he was rotten- a traitor to the core, even betraying Aizen- but Matsumoto knew it was the unspoken sweetness of the purity of his love for her, which had caused his actions.  It was not just a moment of sacrifice, like stepping out in front of a car to push a friend to safety, or taking a bullet for someone…   Not a life merely ended in a single act of sacrifice, but an entire lifetime actively lived, moment by moment, as a sacrifice, given up to ensure the ultimate safety of another.  A lifetime of precise and patient planning, each careful step chosen intentionally to bring him closer to his final goal of securing her safety.

                She folded the paper on itself, tucking it into her shihakusho along with the letter, setting her jaw in firm resolve.  _Your gift will not go unappreciated, Gin,_ she assured him mentally as she moved with silent _shunpo_ across the darkened sky, toward the Senkaimon.  _I will see to it that it is returned.  I will show them…  You’re not rotten, Gin.  The once-bitter fruit of our childhood has ripened, and now it’s time for me to return the protection that you so willingly offered me.  Now it is you who are in need of help.  I won’t let corruption take you, Gin.  I am coming, my beloved.  Just wait.  Just a little longer…  I’ll find a way, Gin.  We’ll be together again, just hold on._


	2. Chapter 2: When the Bough Breaks

                Rangiku stepped through the shoji doors of the Senkaimon, and stood over the Karakura cemetery.  She had decided to come here first, just to satisfy her own curiosity.  She touched down silently in front of the gate, and took a few hesitant steps toward the area where she had always seen Gin perched in her dreams, off to the left.

                There was no sense of him here now, and nothing on any of the stones to indicate any answers to her for the disturbing dreams.  With a defeated sigh, she stepped up into the air and moved toward her ultimate destination tonight, with skillful steps of _shunpo._

                It was not long before she stood above the familiar building that housed the Urahara Shoten.  It was a clear night, and the nearly-full moon cast blue shadows from buildings and trees onto the streets below.  A warmish breeze blew from the west, a ‘zephyr’ she knew it was called, and it rustled her hair.  Fear gripped her heart in a crushing embrace, now that she actually stood here above the Shoten.

                What if he wasn’t able to bring Gin back?  Worse, what if it was really all just strange dreams she’d been having, and Gin was truly gone?  Try though she had to not allow herself to do it, she’d begun to hope too much in his return.  What if this newest development, of Gin appearing to be turning into a Hollow, complicated matters?  She dreaded _that_ answer most of all.  She knew Tosen had become a Hollow before he’d died, and she was terrified that perhaps the same fate would ultimately befall Gin.

                She laid her hand on the package of persimmons tucked into her shihakusho, and drew a strange comfort from the item, steeling herself against the uncertainty she felt.  She descended and touched down in the shadows of the dirt lot in front of the Shoten, and was shocked to see none other than Tia Hallibel, the ex-Tres Espada, leaning against one of the support columns of the porch and gazing placidly up at the night sky.

                It was disarming, to see her like this.  She looked almost sad somehow, Matsumoto thought, face upturned, bathed in moonlight.  There was no evidence of her bone-mask, and Kisuke had done his usual outstanding job in capturing her perfect likeness in the Gigai she was wearing.  In nothing but a comfortable t-shirt and some baggy sweat pants, Matsumoto was shocked at how Hallibel looked so…

                Without her mask and Arrancar uniform, the once-imposing woman seemed like…  Well…  Just a woman.  Matsumoto was sure Hallibel was still strong enough in her Gigai to put up a good fight in a scrap, but there was absolutely zero Reiatsu emanating from her.  Everything about her seemed completely, perfectly human.

                Hope sprung up again into Matsumoto’s throat, a great swelling lump that threatened to choke her as she spoke in a quaver.  “So, the rumors were true.”  Rangiku had been standing in the shadows, observing, but now stepped out into the light.  Hallibel turned her face from the sky and peered into the yard, finding the source of the voice addressing her.  “I had heard, but I had to see it for myself…”  The Shinigami was on high alert, in case there was danger, because Matsumoto knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving.

                “Hello, Matsumoto,” Hallibel said, still leaning on the post.  Matsumoto was a little startled by the gentleness in her voice. “Please, before you come another step…  I need to apologize to you.”

                Matsumoto stilled and narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the expression on Hallibel’s face in the dim light.  “What do you mean?” she asked, not understanding.

                “I want you to know, the past is in the past for me.  I hope you can put things behind us, and we can both walk from this place tonight as friends.  This is a new beginning for me; for all of us, really.  Please, don’t let anyone take that from us.”  There was a tone of her voice that made Matsumoto feel like she was begging for her life.  As if she thought maybe Matsumoto had come to kill her.

                Matsumoto was simultaneously shocked, and crushed.  This creature that stood before her was no proud lieutenant in a demonic army.  Here was a simple human, through and through, who even feared for her life as any other mortal would, from a supernatural being as herself.  “I didn’t come here to fight you, Hallibel, but thank you for that anyway,” Matsumoto said, referencing the apology, and trying to put the woman at ease.  She was deeply dismayed that this unarmed woman would fear her.  She reached into her shihakusho and her fingers brushed the package of persimmons as she withdrew the letter.  The official insignia of the Captain Commander glistened in relief on the red wax of the seal.  “I have a letter to deliver to Kisuke.”

                Hallibel looked perplexed, but seemed to take in the significance of the seal.  “Why did they send such an important letter to be delivered by hand?  Couldn’t they have sent the message by Hell Butterfly?”

                Matsumoto decided that since the information was somewhat directly pertaining to her, and she hadn’t received any direct orders of confidentiality regarding it, that she would tell the woman.  Something in her desperately needed to ease the unrest that glimmered behind those mossy, liquid eyes.  “Soul Society has heard of all the Arrancar resurrections going on over here, and they’re putting a stop to it.”  Matsumoto paused then, weighing her options.  Did she dare delve any further into her purposes for being here?  How much could she really trust the ex-Tres Espada, even in human form?  “…And I had something I wanted to speak with Kisuke about… Personally,” she finally added, and left it at that.

                “Come inside,” Hallibel said affectionately, gesturing with her arm in a wide, hospitable sweep.  Matsumoto was shocked by the genuine warmth of her invitation.  She stepped up on the porch and lay her hand on Hallibel’s shoulder, offering in return a smile that was just as heartfelt, and followed her inside the dimly lit building.

                “So, tell me, how have you been?” Hallibel asked politely as they traversed the hallway toward the back of the store.

                Matsumoto paused.  “Do you want the honest answer, or the polite one?”

                The platinum blonde stopped and looked back.  “Which ever you wish to share with me.  Your heart seems heavy, Rangiku.  I’m willing to listen.”

                Matsumoto’s brows furrowed.  “Thank you for that.  I think it’ll be easier though to just say it all once.  Can you lead me to Kisuke?”

                Hallibel gave a soft smile.  “Of course.”  They continued down the hall, and Hallibel paused, knocking on a door.  “Urahara-san, you have a visitor,” she called.  Soft guitar music played in the background, and Hallibel noted that Matsumoto was looking around for the source of it.  “Grimmjow,” she offered, and Matsumoto’s eyes widened in disbelief.  Of all the Arrancar for them to have brought back, he seemed one of the most dangerous and unstable.  Her concern must have shown on her face fairly clearly, because Hallibel chuckled.  “Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless.  Kisuke’s been working with him.  The music is helping him to channel his rage.  He’s been more sullen than anything, the past few days, honestly.”

                They both turned as the shoji doors slid open and the instantly recognizable green and white striped bucket hat of the shop keeper poked out.  “Oh, Rangiku-san!” he said in a delighted tone.  “Whatever brings you here at this hour of the night?”

                Matsumoto pursed her lips.  “It’s complicated.  Can we sit down?”

                “Of course, of course!” Kisuke assured her, and came out into the hallway, going through the nearby kitchen on his way to the dining room, turning on the tea kettle as he went past.  “Would you like a cup of tea?”

                “Yes,” both women said in tandem, then looked at each other and laughed.  They all went to the dining room together and were seated on the cushions around the low table.

                “So my dear, please tell me, what’s going on?”  Kisuke leaned forward on the table, listening intently.  “You seem troubled.”

                Matsumoto fidgeted, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.  “Well, I’m not sure exactly.  Unohana sensed some kind of…  I don’t know…  Blockage, I guess?  In my Reiatsu…  She wanted me to go to Mayuri, but…”  She shuddered, and shook her head.  “I decided to come to you instead.”

                Clear grey eyes narrowed at her.  “I can look into that.”  He glanced at Hallibel.  “Tia dear, would you get the tea for us?”

                Hallibel nodded, and rose gracefully.  Matsumoto leaned in, glancing anxiously after Hallibel as she left the room.  “I’m sorry, but…”  She turned to Kisuke, whispering urgently.  “Can she be trusted?  I mean, completely?”

                The shopkeeper smiled reassuringly.  “Without a doubt, Rangiku-san.  Now, what’s _really_ weighing on you?”

                “I want you to bring back Gin,” she blurted, tears welling up in her eyes.  The shopkeeper was taken aback, and fished a handkerchief out of his sleeve, passing it to her.  “I’ve been dreaming about him…  The last time, one of his eyes had turned, like a Hollow.”  She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes.  “I’m afraid.”

                He grabbed the crook of her elbow instantly, standing as he pulled her along with a startlingly strong grip.  “Forget the tea, Tia,” he called to the woman in the adjacent kitchen.  “Please bring Tessai, and hurry.  We’ll be in my lab.”  He slid the shoji door out of the way and flung Matsumoto unceremoniously into a chair, beginning immediately to strap her into a barrage of equipment.  She was suddenly very, very scared.

                “Kisuke, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling.

                “I’m not sure, but we’re not going to take any chances,” he told her, his eyes firm but concerned.  “Damn the Hogyoku…  I should never have made that cursed thing.  The effects of it have been messy beyond my wildest imaginings…”  He sighed in frustration, adjusting a dial on a monitor.  “The others had the Reiatsu tied to their Soul Chains.  If Gin’s is attached to yours, but he’s turning into a Hollow…”  He stopped talking and focused on buckling a strap to secure one of the monitors, leaving the sentence hanging ominously, and her mind spun in the silence.

                _But… What?_ she wondered, terror beginning to fill her heart at the unspoken implications of the urgency with which he had begun to move. 

                Kisuke paused for a moment, giving her a brief smile that was saturated with worry.  “We’ll get this straightened out, okay, Rangiku-san?”  She was not very confident in his words, but nodded tensely.

                Tessai burst into the room, a Gigai thrown haphazardly over his shoulder.  “I brought the experimental one, with the automatic projection,” the burly man said, setting the lifeless body on the table.  It looked like a generic mannequin, with no features whatsoever.

                “That will have to do, I’m not sure we have any more time…”  Kisuke was typing frantically, inputting data into a keyboard.  “Put some Bakudo on that thing, Tessai, I’m not sure exactly what’s going to get channeled into it.”

                Tessai began chanting complicated incantations that Matsumoto wasn’t sure she had ever even heard before, and placed several high-level binding spells on the Gigai.  As soon as he had finished, Kisuke began strapping more monitors and equipment to the Gigai itself, and wiring them to the monitors Matsumoto herself was wearing.  “I did this remotely last time with Grimmjow, but I don’t want to take any chances with you.  This situation is a little more dire.”  Kisuke motioned to Tessai.  “Put her out.”  Matsumoto’s eyes widened as Tessai stepped in front of her, and touched his hand to her forehead.  “You’ve got to find him and bring him back, Rangiku-san,” Kisuke told her over Tessai’s whispered chanting.  “He’s trapped.  Hurry, dear.  I’ll do what I can, but it will depend on you at this point.  It’s hard telling what we’re up against.  Good luck.”

                What happened next was unlike anything Matsumoto had ever experienced before.  In a way, it was similar to being knocked out of a Gigai; there was a jolt, and a sensation of falling away…  But it was her soul, not a body, which fell away from her as she spiraled down, down, down into the darkness of her inner world.

                She landed lightly in front of the gate of the Karakura cemetery.  This replica in her inner world appeared exactly identical to the actual one she had visited earlier, except for one, crucial detail.

                She rushed to him, weeping freely now as she ran.  She did not pass through any mist this time, and he seemed to have noticed her instantly, his face lighting with subdued hope.  She called him, sobbing, and fell at his knee, wetting the hem of his shihakusho in her tears.

                Gin’s arms were still pinned at his sides by her Soul Chain, wrapped around his chest restrictively.  He leaned down and twisted his torso to bring his hand to rest on Matsumoto’s head.  “Oi, Rangiku…”  His voice had a strange, layered quality to it, which struck terror into her very bones.  She looked up, and he smiled at her.  It was his sincere smile, the one he only ever gave to her, though it was tinged with sadness.  “Ya weren’t s’posed ta cry anamore,” he chastised her gently, swiping at the wetness on her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

                “You asshole,” she chuckled, sniffling.  “Leave it to you, to crack jokes at a time like this.”

                He sobered, the hint of sorrow taking over the larger part of his expression now.  “T’wasn’t meant as a joke, Rangiku.  T’wasn’t sposed ta end like this...”

                She reached a trembling hand up and hesitated, then forced herself to pry his left eyelid open.  The Hollow eye was still there, and it searched her face.  She moved to check the other one, not entirely sure she wanted to know what she was going to find.

                The initial sight of the white sclera was an instant relief.  But upon further inspection, she could see gold flecking tainting the blue, and in the white, there occasionally swirled a shadow of darkness.  “It’s not over yet, Gin,” she assured him, hoisting him over her shoulder with a loud protest from him.

                “Oi, Rangiku!” he cried, and she began to run, using her _shunpo_ to jump higher and higher in the air.  She could see a distant point of light in the darkness above, and she assumed that was the exit she was headed for.  Gin struggled weakly.  “Rangiku, where’re ya takin’ me?”

                “To Kisuke,” she assured him.  “I think he can help.”

                He was silent for a moment, then a tremble entered his voice as he spoke.  “Ahm sorry,” he whispered, the layered quality of his voice intensifying.  “Sometimes, when there’s been too much moisture, the persimmons will rot.  Decay sets in…”

                “Some people who don’t know any better think they’re rotten when they’re not, Gin,” she said with a soft smile.  “Like I said, it’s not over yet.”  She thought for a moment.  “I’m sorry I cried so much.”

                “I can’t take it,” he whispered.  “I can’t take ya cryin’, Rangiku.  It breaks me like nothin’ else.”

                “Gin…”  Matsumoto hesitated.  She didn’t want to jinx them, but she knew that if things went horribly, horribly awry upon their return, she might never get another chance to speak to him again.  “I want you to know…  I love you, Gin.”

                The silence worried her for a moment, but when he spoke at last, there was no hint of the strange texture in his voice.  “Ah’ve always loved ya, Rangiku.  Only you…”  He was quiet for a moment.  “How long’ve ah been gone?”

                “I don’t know,” Matsumoto said.  “I stopped counting the days after you left…  Today, I’ll start again.”

                She could feel him press into her, in some approximation of a hug, and she squeezed him tighter as they passed through the point of light.

WWWWWWWWWW

                If losing consciousness in that manner was similar to stepping out of a Gigai, waking was nothing like it.  Rangiku felt like she had been doped, and she struggled to rouse herself.  Her body felt leaden and heavy, and even her eyelids would not rise at her command.  She could hear sounds in the room around her, but she was unable to respond, seeming paralyzed.  She tried to call out, again and again, but no sounds would come from her throat.  Finally, she managed to make some small kind of noise, and that seemed to anchor her again in her body, bit by bit, as she struggled, slowly able to make louder and louder moans.  She felt hands on her shoulders, trying to keep her from thrashing too violently as she fought to rouse, groaning.  “I think she’s coming to,” she heard a female voice say, and as her brain endeavored to slip back into synch with her body, she realized it must have been Hallibel speaking.  She felt another hand lay on her forehead, this one larger and much rougher, and she assumed it belonged to a man.  Fingers wrested her eyelid open and she saw Tessai for a brief instant before her eye snapped shut again.  She heard both he and Hallibel gasp.

                “Urahara-san…”  The concern in Tessai’s voice was worrisome, and she instantly felt hands on her face again, prying both her eyes open as Kisuke searched them, a severe look on his face.

                “Damn,” he cursed, and she fell back into darkness, still unable to force her body to respond.

                _What the hell is wrong with my eyes?_ Matsumoto screamed in her mind, unable to respond.

                “Do you think this is caused by the prototype Gigai?” Tessai offered.

                “No…”  She could hear the _tap tap tap_ of the shop keeper’s folded white fan as he bounced it against his lip in thought.  “Call Ulquiorra.”

                “It’s too early,” Tessai protested.  “They won’t be awake yet.”

                “Well, neither are these two!” Kisuke barked in a scathing tone.  “He’s helped me with this before, when we separated Hallibel from Grimmjow.  He’s familiar with the equipment, and I need another mind on this right now.  I’m a little upset, and I’m not thinking as clearly as I should be.”  Matsumoto heard the shoji doors slide and clack closed as heavy footsteps moved away.  Quiet, jagged breathing fell on her ears, and she realized that Kisuke was crying.  “I’m sorry, Matsumoto,” he muttered bitterly.  “And Gin, too.  I don’t know if either of you can hear me right now…  This has all gone so far afield of what I had planned…  If things don’t work out, I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for this…”

                The footsteps returned, and shoji doors slid again.  “They’re coming.”

                “ _She_ doesn’t need to come, she’s got classes in the morning” Kisuke said, but then added, “Well, maybe it would be helpful, in the long run…  She does have some unusual abilities.  In case things go wrong, maybe she can help.”

                Matsumoto didn’t have to wonder for very long who _she_ was in reference to.  A few minutes later, she heard pounding feet that chased down the hallway, and breathless gasping.  “We came right away.  We ran the whole way here, “Orihime Inoue panted.

                “Come here, you two,” Kisuke said in a stern and worried tone.  Matsumoto heard them gasp, and then a few moments later, she was blinded by fingers prying her eyelids open as she stared into the faces of Orihime and Ulquiorra Cifer, the ex-Cuatra Espada.  Orihime’s cheeks glistened with the streaks of tears, and her lower lip trembled, but Ulquiorra’s face, as ever, remained stoic.  Those emerald eyes, though, Matsumoto realized, bore a shadow of something darker than the face of the man was willing to betray.  She fell back into darkness as the fingers left her eyelids, and she strained to make sense of what was going on around her as she head shuffling and clanking of equipment.

                “Do you have a spare Gigai, Urahara-san?” Ulquiorra asked.  “One that might get destroyed?”

                Matsumoto heard the heavy steps of Tessai leaving the room, and returning again shortly.  There was a thump as what she assumed was the requested Gigai being deposited on the floor.  She felt someone touching the monitors and other equipment that was strapped to her body.  “What’s your plan?” Kisuke asked.

                “If we were able to channel Hallibel out of Grimmjow remotely while he was sleeping, then we should be able to channel the Hollow portion out of these two and into the Gigai, and then destroy it,” Ulquiorra said matter-of-factly.  “We will simply reverse the polarity on these, and set them both for ‘transmit’ instead of the one on Gin’s Gigai being set to ‘receive.’”

                “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that,” Kisuke said.  “Thank you.”

                Ulquiorra grunted in acknowledgement.  “As you warned us, you are emotionally compromised at this point.  I have learned that emotions can have adverse effect on one’s logic.”  He paused for a moment.  “The rest of us should probably step out of the room, this could get dangerous.”

                “Tessai, slap some Bakudo on this Gigai as well, I don’t want to take any more chances.”  No sooner had the words left his lips than the larger man began chanting, laying down several layers of binding on the artificial body.  “Ulquiorra, if we aren’t all rotting in a jail cell for the next millennium once this is all said and done, I’d like you to come work with me at the shop.  I could use a sharp mind like yours around here.”

                Matsumoto felt electricity jolting through her body, then a searing pain.  She thought maybe she could hear screaming, but she wasn’t sure whose it was, or maybe if it was even her own.  Her soul felt as if it was being ripped apart, and it was agonizing.  She could actually sense now what the situation was.

                The Hollowfication that had begun in Gin, had somehow spread to her, across the bounds of him being trapped in her soul.  The single Hollow that was tangled in with the both of them now, was being torturously ripped out, like an adhesive bandage being removed too slowly from her very soul, or a weed being pulled from the soil of a garden.  She could feel the tendrils of the creature’s Reiatsu twisted through her Soul Chain as it clung to them, refusing to be exorcized so easily from its hosts.

                “It’s only halfway in the Gigai, Kisuke, it won’t release them!” Tessai cried.

                “Dammit,” the shop keeper sighed, and Matsumoto heard the sound of a zanupakto being drawn.  She assumed it’s was Benihime, since Kisuke was the only Shinigami in the room.

                Her eyes flew open as she felt the dark wisps of the Hollow’s Reiatsu dissolving, releasing her Soul Chain from its entangling grip.  She could see Kisuke straddling the Gigai, the hilt of Benihime pressed against its forehead in a _konso_.  And there, across the room, was her beloved Gin, lying on the table where the new prototype Gigai had been placed earlier.  Stretched three ways between him, her, and the Gigai that Kisuke was straddling on the floor, were dark tendrils, like roots, connecting them all together.  As the Konso smoked against the face of the Gigai, the Hollow shrieked as its particles dispersed in a shimmer of light, sending it finally into the next realm.

                A strange silence fell over the room, and the shoji doors slid open, several sets of eyes peeking in hesitantly.  “Look at me!” Kisuke ordered, glancing back and forth between Matsumoto and Gin as they obeyed him.  He let out a huge sigh of relief, and fell back onto the floor, exhausted.  “Their eyes are normal again.  We did it.”

                Orihime and Ulquiorra crept in the room, followed by Tessai, who began to undo the Bakudo that still held Gin immobilized.  Ulquiorra was unhooking the monitors and other devices which Matsumoto had strapped to her, while Orihime and Hallibel, who had brought up the rear, helped the shop keeper back to his feet.

                As soon as Matsumoto had been freed from the tangle of wires and buckles, she ran across the room and threw herself on Gin’s chest.  He put his arms around her, and held her tight.  Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.  “Oi, Rangiku,” Gin said worriedly.  “Too much moisture makes the fruit rot.”

                She began to laugh, and sat up, reaching into her shihakusho and drawing out the little paper wrapped package.  Gin’s face softened when he recognized it, and he gave her one of his true smiles as she passed him one of the dried persimmons.

                “Well,” she said, taking a bite of one herself and chewing it thoughtfully.  “That’s the nice thing about fruit…  If you catch it quick enough, you can cut out the rotten part.”  She smiled, and pulled him into a soft, tender kiss.  “And besides…  The moisture that rots the drying fruit, is the same water that nourishes the living tree.”

                Gin smiled, and laid his hand alongside her cheek.  “Ya sure know a lot ‘bout persimmon trees, Rangiku.”

                She took her beloved’s face in her hands, and kissed him deeply.

                He tasted of persimmon.


	3. Uprooted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The talented Tite Kubo is the owner of Bleach, and all its characters. I am merely borrowing them to tell my story. I own only my plot and ideas. I receive no financial compensation for my writing.
> 
> A/N: This is an early posting! I wasn't expecting to put this up until Sunday, but because I had to split to a fourth chapter, you can have this now! No real warnings on this one, maybe some rude language, and alcohol use. Things will get a bit angsty. Also, some of this may not follow exact science of the Canon, but that’s where my note about “AU Plot Divergence” comes in, I’ve twisted things a bit perhaps to make them work to suit my needs. Please enjoy.

                It was the wee-hours of the morning.  Orihime knew it would be futile to try to go home and get back to sleep at this late hour, with dawn just around the corner, so she asked if she could just stay and visit.

                Matsumoto appreciated the sentiment of the thoughtful teenager, and her ex-Espada boyfriend, who also elected to stay.  She knew that the shit was about to hit the fan, once Soul Society got wind of the disturbance, and there was no way that they could have missed the sudden appearance of the Hollow, and the resulting explosion of Reiatsu that was just as quickly silenced.  Someone would have picked up on it, and would certainly be here soon to investigate, of that she had no doubt.  The more witnesses that were on hand for this, the better the outcome would be for her and Gin, she reasoned.

                With Hallibel, Tessai, Ulquiorra and Orihime seated with her and Gin around the table, she finally drew the envelope from her shihakusho and passed it over to the shop keeper.  “Kisuke, this was part of the reason I came.”  The guilt riddled across her face caused his brow to furrow at the sight of the official seal.

                He opened the letter and scanned the contents, lips moving silently as he read, until he pressed the document face-down on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes in frustration.  A weary sigh escaped his lungs.  “Did you know the contents of this before you came to me, Matsumoto?” Kisuke asked, jabbing the back of the letter with his finger.

                She hung her head in shame.  “I hadn’t read it, but I knew what it was regarding, yes,” she admitted to him.

                “This is serious,” he sighed, reaching into a cabinet beside him and drawing out a bottle of sake.

                “Urahara-san, it’s not even breakfast time!” Orihime commented, shocked that he was drinking alcohol at this hour.

                “I hate to be rude my dear, but it’s _my_ funeral; I’m a grown man, and I’ll drink if I please,” he said dejectedly, downing a shot.  The others watched him as he poured another glass, and flipped the letter face up, pushing it toward them.  “See for yourself.”

                Footsteps thundered through the hallway as Chad, Ishida and Ichigo burst into the room.  “What the hell?...” Ichigo asked, shocked at the huge gathering of people assembled in the dining room at this hour of the morning.

                “We sensed a disturbance,” Ishida said, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  “It was a pretty significant Reiatsu signature, so I rushed over.  Ran into these two on the way, looks like we weren’t the only ones who had this…  idea…”  His eyes fell on Gin, and he froze, eyes wide in shock.  “Ichimaru…”

                Gin smiled and gave one of his unavoidably creepy waves.  “Hey Ishida, Sado, Kurosaki.  Sorry ta drag y’all from yer beds at this unreas’nable hour.”

                Ichigo put one hand on his hip, pointing at Gin but looking angrily at the shop keeper, and began yelling.  “What the hell, geta-boshi!? (*1)” he barked.  “The others were bad enough, but this is pushing the envelope!  You’re really going to be in some deep shit now, I think!”

                Kisuke swallowed another shot of sake, choosing to ignore the chastisement from the young man, and Hallibel passed the letter to Ichigo, who snatched it up and began to read, Chad and Ishida joining him over his shoulders.  Ichigo’s face softened as he read the words on the page, and realized that, indeed, Kisuke was probably already in much worse trouble than any of them knew.  “It was so nice for all of you to show up for my going away party,” Urahara muttered with bitter sarcasm into his cup as he downed another shot of sake.

                Tessai snatched the bottle off the table before the shop keeper could pour himself another glass.  “Forgive me, sir, but I won’t let you carry on like this.”  He turned to Ulquiorra.  “Cifer-san, will you please see what we have in the way of breakfast for our guests, and prepare us a meal, if you would be so kind?”  Ulquiorra bowed, and made his way to the kitchen of the Shoten, which he had become all-too familiar with, seeing as how it was where he’d learned to cook over the past week.

                Dawn was breaking, and Kisuke sat despondently, staring off at nothing in particular.  Matsumoto reached out her hand, and laid it on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Kisuke.  I didn’t really have a chance to explain it to you…  You grabbed me up, and…”

                “I know,” he sighed, chuckling wryly.  “I did what had to be done, in order to save your life.  You’d think there’d be some kind of ‘Good Samaritan’ law for Central 46, but I highly doubt that.”  He gave her a sad look.  “Honestly, I’m glad I didn’t get the letter until after we got Gin out and separated the Hollow from you two.  If I had hesitated for even a moment because of that knowledge, worried about what consequences might befall my actions…”  He shook his head.  “We probably wouldn’t be sitting here talking right now.  I don’t think you would have survived, and I would have ended up doing a full Hollow Cleansing instead of just a Konso.  I would have had one hell of a mess to clean up; far more than one broken Gigai, plus a heaping helping of guilt over having to kill you both.”

                “How did you know the Konso would work?” Hallibel asked.

                “I didn’t,” Kisuke admitted.  “Trust me, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to turn Benihime around and slice my old friend in half.  It was a risk, but I decided to try the least invasive corrective measure.  Clearly, it worked.”

                “But where did the Hollow come from in the first place?” Orihime questioned.

                Kisuke nodded toward Gin.  “I think you’ll have to ask Ichimaru-san about that one.”

                Gin was clearly uncomfortable about being put on the spot, and being expected to give a straightforward and honest answer.  “Ah think t’was darkness inside mah own soul,” he confessed, and left it at that.

                “Can you even do that?” Ichigo demanded.  “Can you do a Konso on just part of a soul, on the damaged portion?”

                Kisuke stared angrily at the orangette, and gestured toward Gin.  “What the hell does it look like to you, Kurosaki-san?”  He hung his head in his hands.  “I know what I saw, and the others there saw it as well.  It’s not as if these are some regular circumstances, with set protocols.  This is more fallout from the Hogyoku.  Who knows what kind of weirdness is possible, considering the influences of that damnable thing.”

                Ulquiorra brought them all some tea, and they sat around for a while, drinking in silence and waiting for the other shoe to drop.  It was a surprisingly long amount of time before anyone showed up- breakfast was long since finished, and Orihime and Chad had helped wash up the dishes without being

                Matsumoto and Gin were love-struck by now, and mostly oblivious to the distress of the others, staring at one another with ridiculous smiles as he lay across her lap and she fed him grapes from the fruit bowl on the table.  They realized that they might not have much time left together, and they had decided not to waste it sitting around feeling sorry for themselves and everyone else.

                The tension was thick, and they all were anxious when they finally heard footsteps in the front hallway.

                Lieutenants Renji Abarai and Rukia Kuchiki followed behind a very concerned-looking Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya.  They all froze in the doorway when they saw the size of the assembly gathered in the dining room.

                “What the…” Renji began, but Hitsugaya held up his hand for silence.  His eyes were scanning the room, searching the faces, until he finally fell on the pale blonde hair he was seeking.

                “Urahara-san, what’s the meaning of thi…”  He stopped short though when _another_ blonde caught his attention, along with the silver-haired man sprawled reclining in her lap as she fed him grapes.  “Matsumoto!” he hissed, his concern turning to anger, and she smiled up at him.

                “Oh, good morning, Taicho,” she greeted her captain cheerfully.

                “Don’t you ‘good morning’ me, Matsumoto!  What’s going on here?”  The three Shinigami moved into the room, and Toshiro waited for some kind of explanation to the incomprehensible sight before his eyes.

                “Kisuke found the blockage in my Reiatsu, and removed it, that’s all,” she said casually, motioning to Gin.  “It got a little more involved than he’d expected, but everything’s fine now.”

                “What’s Ichimaru doing here?” Rukia insisted, her hand poised warily on the hilt of her zanupakto.

                “Eatin’ grapes,” Gin said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Rukia’s eyes opened wide, and then she narrowed them at him, scrutinizing the man.

                “Explain yourself, Ichimaru,” she ordered.

                “Rangiku was in danger, b’cause mah soul an’ hers were bound.  Ah was startin’ to become ah Hollow, caught up in her soul.  Kisuke separated us, an’ put mah soul in this Gigai, an’ performed ah Konso on th’ Hollow.”

                “Impossible,” Toshiro snapped.  “Konso sends a soul to the next life.  If you had performed a Konso on a soul, it would have passed on.

                “The influence of the Hogyoku has created a lot of unusual circumstances, over time,” Urahara stated simply in explanation.  “And honestly, Gin _was_ in possession of it, however briefly.”

                “Why did you break the ‘cease and desist’ order, and resurrect him?” the captain demanded.

                “Matsumoto was in serious danger, I had to act decisively.  I did what I had to do, to save her life,” Kisuke said.  “I don’t think I need more explanation than that.”

                Grimmjow stepped into the doorway, clearly having just woken up, and was flabbergasted by the amount of people in the dining room.  He just stood there in shock, unable to speak.

                “In my own defense,” Urahara told Hitsugaya, “I didn’t open the letter until after I had already channeled his soul into the Gigai.”

                “No doubt, by careful planning,” Captain Hitsugaya growled, implying that perhaps Matsumoto had her own motives for not delivering the letter with the customary promptness regarding such an official missive.  His thinly veiled accusation went unnoticed, or perhaps intentionally ignored.  She and Gin were completely absorbed in one another, determined to enjoy what could potentially be their last hours together.  “The High Court had ruled that the Arrancar whom you resurrected didn’t hold any specific threat to Soul Society, once inhabiting Gigai, and if you agreed to rehabilitate them…”

                “Which I have done!” Kisuke defended.  He reached for Hallibel, and hugged her shoulder.  “Look at Hallibel here, she’s my star pupil, she has a job and everything!”

                “…But _this_ individual,” Hitsugaya snapped, pointing at the white-haired man sprawled in Matsumoto’s lap, “Is a traitor to Soul Society, and must be tried and executed.”

                “Oh, honestly, Taicho, you’re over-reacting,” Matsumoto scolded lightly, waving at him dismissively as she giggled, feeding Gin another grape.  “He’s completely harmless.  Have the trial, he’ll be found innocent.”

                “Mah motives were pure, although I admit, poorly executed,” Gin admitted.  “Ah was jus’ tryin’ tah protect Rangiku-san…”  They devolved into incomprehensible lovey-dovey babbling, rubbing noses and giggling at each other.

                “I think it’s sweet,” Orihime said with a smile, reaching over and taking Ulquiorra’s hand.

                “The fact remains,” Hitsugaya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “that you have broken the edict handed down by the High Court, Urahara.”

                “Not so,” Ulquiorra interjected, scanning over the contents of the order in his hands.  “This letter clearly states that Urahara-san is henceforth forbidden from using his technology to resurrect any more Arrancar, specifically the Espada.”  He glanced at Matsumoto and Gin.  “He, clearly, is not one of the Espada.  Therefore, he is excluded from this edict anyway.”

                “HA!” Urahara laughed, pointing his fan at Hitsugaya, who only scowled further.  “Ulquiorra, I should get you a job as a lawyer…”  Kisuke pressed his fan against his pursed lips as a light sparked in his eyes.  “You know, that’s not a half-bad idea, honestly…  How quickly can you read, my dear boy?”

                “I am fairly efficient at reading.”

                Kisuke nodded.  “Of course you are, of course,” he muttered to himself, seemingly oblivious to all of the people gathered in his dining room as he was buried deeply in thought.  “If Gin and I will be tried before Central 46, then Ulquiorra will represent us,” the shop keeper told Captain Hitsugaya.  “We have a highly unusual circumstance here to delineate, and considering Cifer-san’s excellent point just now, I think we have a valid case to put before the court.  They’re going to have to hear out the entire story before passing judgment on Gin, or me, or any of the others.  We had reasonable cause for what we did.  It was in pursuance to the preservation of life.  And the Hollow was destroyed, with no other casualties or damage, except to one Gigai, which was my own property in the first place.  I don’t think Central 46 has a leg to stand on, trying to convict me of banishing a Hollow and breaking my own property.”

                “You miss the point here,” Hitsugaya said sternly, crossing his arms.  “You’ve resurrected one of the lieutenants of the infamous Sosuke Aizen, traitor to Soul Society.  This man is dangerous.”

                Grimmjow was clearly tired of all the yapping, and muscled past people to try to make his way to the kitchen.  “Blah blah blah,” he growled.  “Kisuke, aren’t you exiled?”

                “Yes, technically, but what does that have to do with anything?” the captain snapped.

                Hallibel’s eyes met with Grimmjow’s, and widened in realization of his point.  “Grimmjow is right.  If Urahara-san is exiled, he should be considered a sovereign entity, not under the jurisdiction and rule of Soul Society.  That’s how we would have done things in Hueco Mundo.”

                “This isn’t Hueco Mundo,” Ishida pointed out.  He glanced at the clock.  “We’re going to be late for school, if we don’t hurry,” he said to Chad, who nodded silently in agreement.  “Ichigo, Inoue, are you coming?”

                “Oh!  I forgot about class!” Orihime bubbled, and then gave a yawn and a stretch.  “I hope I can stay awake today for the lessons.  Too bad I won’t have my books today though.”  She gave Ulquiorra a peck on the cheek.  “I’ll see you after class, Ulqui-kun,” she told him brightly.  “Bye everyone, it was great to see you all again, Renji, Rukia, Toshiro, Matsumoto, Gin!”  The Shinigami nodded to acknowledge her, but were more focused on the task at hand than on bidding her a good day at school.  The four students left, and Grimmjow made his way back from the kitchen, falling into Orihime’s recently vacated seat.  He picked at a bowl of leftovers he had found in the fridge, and listened to the conversation.

                “You’ll have to come back with us to Soul Society,” Hitsugaya said.  “I’m placing you under arrest for violation of a direct order from Central 46.”

                “I didn’t get the notice until after I saved her life,” Kisuke countered briskly, struggling to maintain a calm, even tone.  “Some of us have priorities about things like that.”

                Rukia looked sharply to Hitsugaya, and he shook his head, crossing his arms as he guessed what she was going to ask.  “Ignorance of the law is no excuse, Urahara.”

                Gin pushed himself to his feet, kissing Matsumoto gently and stroking her cheek, then turning to Captain Hitsugaya, straightening his clothing.  “Alright, ah’m ready t’come wit ya.”

                Matsumoto burst into tears, but Gin would not look at her.  It was clear he was struggling with this, but he seemed firm in his resolve, chin held high, jaw set.  “Let’s go.”

                Hitsugaya looked to Kisuke, but the shop keeper shook his head, arms crossed defiantly.  “No.  I demand twenty four hours.  I will surrender myself then, without a struggle, and be escorted by Rangiku-san to Soul Society at that time.  But I demand twenty four hours to prepare my counsel.”  Kisuke nodded, indicating Ulquiorra.

                Toshiro sighed in irritation, lips pursed in a thin line, but relented.  “Fine.  Twenty four hours.  He’s under your watch, Matsumoto.  Bring him at the appointed time.”

                Matsumoto managed to pull herself together for a moment, long enough to choke out, “ _Hai, Taicho._ ”

                Hitsugaya turned on his heel and walked out to the front of the store.  In the yard, they summoned a Senkaimon gate, and he, Rukia and Renji waited.  Gin hugged Rangiku, and she buried her face in his shoulder, his shirt soaking up her tears.  “I’ll be there soon,” she assured him, and then struck him between the shoulder blades with the gokon tekko that Urahara had passed to her, which she had pulled onto her hand behind Gin’s back.  His soul stumbled back, and she was left holding the blank gigai they had placed him in the night before.

                Gin stepped through the Senkaimon, and only then did he finally turn back to look at Rangiku.  He gave her a small, sad wave as the shoji doors slid closed, and the gate vanished.  She sighed, and wrestled the gigai back up the stairs.  Urahara moved to assist her, but she yelled, “I’ve got it!” in a raw, insistent tone of voice, and he stepped back then and allowed her to struggle with it.  It was clearly something she felt she needed to do herself, for some reason.

                Back inside, she propped the gigai in the corner near the table, then sat down, staring mournfully at Gin’s half-full tea cup.  She tugged off the gokon tekko and tossed the glove unceremoniously onto the table with a sigh.  “Why did you demand twenty four hours, Kisuke?” she asked.

                “Just like I said…  To prepare my counsel,” he repeated, nodding at Ulquiorra.  “Central 46 might not be like a standard court, with the usual proceedings and whatnot, but there are plenty of historical court cases that Ulquiorra can learn about in that time to prepare to defend us as best as he’s able.”  Kisuke turned and locked eyes with the Cuatra Espada.  “I’m sorry Cifer-san, I assume too much.  Are you even willing to represent Gin and I before Central 46?”

                Ulquiorra made a sitting half-bow.  “It would be my honor to do so, Urahara-san.”

                “Great.”  The shop keeper clapped his hands, and rubbed them together eagerly, a faint smile gracing his lips.  “Then let’s get to work, everyone.”

                Urahara called Ichigo at school, and gave him a list of titles he wanted them to pick up from the library on their way back after school, which he agreed to.  Hallibel, Grimmjow, Ulquiorra, Tessai, and Urahara himself were all busy doing research at projection consoles when the others came back from school, loaded down with law books.

                Ulquiorra was, true to his word, a remarkably fast reader, but it still took all of them working together into the late hours to research all of the cases that Kisuke thought might benefit them.  Finally, he closed the book he was thumbing through and powered down his computer with a yawn.  “I think we’ve done all we can, everyone.  Thank you for your help.  Let’s meet back here tomorrow, ok?  I think we could all use a good night’s rest.”

                Everyone dispersed back to their homes, except for Grimmjow, who was still living at the Shoten, and Matsumoto, who had nowhere else to go.  The Sexta jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  “Hey, c’mon, there’s a place for you to sleep tonight,” he told her, and led her to a mostly empty room with a bed already made up.

                “Thank you, Grimmjow,” she said, her voice ragged and exhausted sounding as she fell into the bed, and he nodded in welcome, flicking out the light and sliding the door shut.

                Matsumoto fell asleep almost instantly.

                She slept deeply, untroubled by dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1*- Geta-boshi- “Sandal-Hat,” a nickname by which Kisuke Urahara is commonly known, because of his unusual habit of always wearing his trademark green and white striped bucket hat, and traditional wooden geta sandals.
> 
> WWWWWWWWWW
> 
> A/N: I was planning to get this done in three chapters, but it would appear my content will run over into a fourth one after all. I did warn you though, it was a possibility! Hang in there, everyone…  
>  I make no money for my writing, but if you enjoyed this story, please, you may ‘pay’ me for my efforts with the “Author Currency” of a nice review. The more specific and detailed a review it is, the more value it has to me. Your reviews are ultimately an investment in my writing, because each one encourages me toward spending more of myself and my time on writing new pieces.  
>  Thank you for reading (and reviewing!). Speak to you again soon,  
>  ~KaiBlueOtaku


	4. Grafted Branches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The talented Tite Kubo is the owner of Bleach, and all its characters. I am merely borrowing them to tell my story. I own only my plot and ideas. I receive no financial compensation for my writing.
> 
> A/N: No real warnings on this one, maybe some rude language, and alcohol use. Things will get a bit angsty. Also, some of this may not follow exact science of the Canon, but that’s where my note about “AU Plot Divergence” comes in, I’ve twisted things a bit perhaps to make them work to suit my needs. Please enjoy.

                When Matsumoto woke, the early dawn light filtered through a high window.  Glancing around the room, she noted a guitar and amp propped in the corner.  _Hey, wait a second,_ she thought to herself as the haze of sleep began to release her from its grip.  _Didn’t Hallibel tell me the other night that Grimmjow was playing the guitar?  Surely this can’t be…_

She got up and made the bed neatly, then went to the dining room.  Her suspicion was confirmed when she saw that Grimmjow had pushed the seating cushions together to make himself a makeshift mattress of sorts, had found a blanket somewhere, and was curled up asleep there.  Creaking floorboards under Matsumoto’s careful steps caused him to crack an eye open.  “Oh, hey.”  He gave a languorous stretch.  “Good morning.”

                “Thank you,” she said meekly.  “You didn’t have to give up your bed for me, Grimmjow.”

                “Eh, don’t mention it,” he said with a smile, rolling his shoulder, trying to get it to pop.  He deadpanned and looked squarely at her, pausing.  “Seriously though…  Don’t mention it.  People will think I’ve gone soft.”  Matsumoto chuckled, and nodded in understanding.  Grimmjow pulled a sour, thoughtful face, and added, “I just thought…  If I was in your situation, you know…”  He waved dismissively, as if to say _Forget it_ , then stood and folded the blanket, rearranging the cushions around the table with a nudging foot.

                It wasn’t much longer before the rest of the household was up, and just shortly after that when the slow trickle of the others began to filter in, first Orihime and Ulquiorra, followed by Hallibel, Chad, Ishida, and finally Ichigo.  Everyone milled around awkwardly, not sure what to say or do, since they all realized this could be their farewell to the much-beloved shop keeper.

                “Alright everyone, let’s get you out of those gigai,” Urahara said as he came into the room, having already shed his own.  Tessai was on hand to haul them into storage until they returned from Soul Society.  Urahara raised his cane, which was actually a _shikomizue_ (*1), hiding his zanupakto, Benihime.  At the tip of it was a marking like a skull, wreathed in blue flames.  He pressed this to Grimmjow’s chest, and he began to protest vociferously when he was unexpectedly knocked out of his body.  He stood there looking dumbfounded, and Kisuke shouted, “Next!”

                Ulquiorra turned to Orihime, and squeezed her hand.  She gave him a wan smile, then let go of his fingers as he stepped toward the shop keeper, likewise knocked out of his own gigai.  Orihime was shocked to see he was wearing his horned bone helmet still, and his Arrancar uniform.  When she glanced to Grimmjow, she noted that he too, had the partial bone mask visible, as well as his teal-colored Estgma under his eyes, and his hollow hole clearly in view below his opened Espada jacket.

                “Damn, it feels good to be out of that thing,” Grimmjow chuckled, cracking his neck and stretching.

                “Urahara-san, why do they still look…”  Orihime paused, trying to find the best way to be delicate with her question.

                As Hallibel was jolted from her gigai, she stepped forward and offered an explanation from behind the high, zippered collar which hid the remnants of her own bone mask.  “Our reishi, the material construction of our souls, is still the same as it ever was, Orihime.  We are still Arrancar.”  Everyone seemed somewhat shocked and dismayed at this, apparently having forgotten so quickly, because of the human-looking gigai they had been inhabiting.

                “Well, shall we?” Kisuke chirped with as much forced, artificial cheer as he could muster, and the others fell into step behind him.  Chad, Ichigo, Inoue and Ishida watched mournfully as Matsumoto escorted Urahara and the ex-Espada through the Senkaimon gate that Tessai opened for them.  The shop keeper turned and gave one last, meaningful look to Tessai, as if to silently say, _Take care of yourself, and the shop, and Jinta and Ururu, if I don’t make it back,_ and then the gate closed on all of them with an echoing _clack_ that seemed to carry a sense of finality and foreboding to them all.

                They traveled in silence, because there was nothing to say at this point; all the words had been spoken, all the tears had been cried, all the work had been done…  All the preparation had brought them to this moment, as the gate opened at the other end of the passage, and they all saw Captain Hitsugaya waiting, along with Captain Soi Fon and other members of the faceless Second Division detention squad, wearing hooded masks and all standing at attention with spears.

                “You came,” Hitsugaya said, though it was not clear exactly to whom he was speaking his observation, as he was dubiously eyeing the Espada who trailed behind the Shinigami.

                “Of course I did.  Had you any doubts?” Kisuke asked darkly.  He noted the gaze of the white-haired captain, and haughtily commented, “My counsel, and…”  He fumbled for a moment, until Matsumoto took the hand of Hallibel, and squeezed it, giving the ex-Tres a warm look.

                “Moral support,” Hallibel offered, and Kisuke smiled, nodding his agreement.

                Hisugaya threw his hands up a bit in resignation, and looked to Soi Fon, who only shrugged at him, and looked in turn to her jailers, who took their cue and surrounded the prisoner.  “Kisuke Urahara,” she began, “You stand accused of defying a direct order from Central 46, and resurrecting the alleged traitor, Gin Ichimaru.  You will be escorted to the Second Division detention center, where you will be held pending trial tomorrow morning.”  She turned briskly on her heel and began to walk purposefully, followed by her jailers, who surrounded Urahara, still escorted by Matsumoto.  The Arrancar brought up the rear of their procession, several steps behind the others, Ulquiorra walking ahead of Grimmjow and Hallibel.

                If the sight of Soi Fon and her jailers leading a prisoner through the streets wasn’t enough to give people pause, the three Arrancar trailing them made lower-level Shinigami melt against buildings and slink back into alleyways and side streets, desperate to get out of their way.  The trio walked with an air of dignity and belonging, as if they owned the place and were utterly above reproach in their presence there.

                Grimmjow folded his hands behind his head and took a deep breath.  “Aahhh, you smell that?  The air here smells awesome.  Reminds me of home.”  He leered in amusement at the cowering passers-by.

                “It is the ambient reishi levels in the atmosphere of Soul Society,” Ulquiorra told Grimmjow, turning slightly back over his shoulder to project his voice.  “It is similar to that of Hueco Mundo, in that regard.  The reishi levels here are exponentially higher than those found in the World of the Living.”

                He inhaled deeply again.  “I love it.  Makes me f…”  Hallibel grabbed his upper arm suddenly, digging her nails into his flesh in warning.  He gave a hissing gasp and glared scathingly at her, but the look she gave him in return was even more so.

                She knew exactly what he was going to say; _It makes me feel powerful,_ because she could sense it as well.  She could tell by the way that Ulquiorra was carrying himself that he had noticed too, though he had more sense than to say such things aloud.  She gave a subtle shake of her head to Grimmjow, and his eyes widened as he realized the graveness of the error he’d almost made.

Everything about their existence now depended on them being powerless, and no threat to Soul Society or its motives.  To admit to regaining any ability whatsoever, or possibly even to suggest that they felt powerful…  Certainly, to make such a declaration within the walls of Seireitei itself could be fatal to all three of them.  Grimmjow pursed his lips tightly, and Hallibel gave a slight nod of approval, turning her eyes back toward the front of the procession, which was nearing the detention center.

Once inside, they were led down a long spiraling flight of stairs, past doors placed occasionally on small landings, until Soi Fon paused at one, sorting through a large key ring at her hip, selecting a specific key, and opened the door, ushering the procession inside, down a short hallway.

On the other side of the door, a prisoner stepped up to the door of his cell.  When Matsumoto saw the white hair, she broke rank and ran to him with a desperate cry of, “Gin!” and fell on her knees at front of the cell, clutching his hand through the bars.

“Hey, Rangiku,” he replied softly.  “No more cryin’, okay?”  He gave a pitiful, half-hearted smile, and she nodded, leaning against the cold iron, returning his wan expression.

The jailers placed Kisuke in the cell across the way, and locked the door.  Everyone could sense that the lock was not merely mechanical, but possessing also kido, because as the key clicked coldly in its housing, there was a pale blue spark to be seen in the keyhole, and a shimmer spread across the bars.

“There’s no use trying to escape,” Soi Fon said coolly, walking toward the exit.  “The whole place is locked down with so much kido and security you’d never get past your cell door.”

“Who said ana’thin ‘bout escapin’?” Gin asked, grinning.  “Person’ly, ahm lookin’ forward ta Central 46 havin’ ta eat their accusations when we git cleared ah charges.”

“Here here!” Kisuke seconded with a smirk.

Soi Fon turned back briefly, eyeing the Arrancar.  “I don’t know what to do with you all.  I don’t have any accommodations for…”

“We will wait here,” Ulquiorra stated decisively, taking a seat on a bench at the end of the hall.  Hallibel and Grimmjow stood stoically beside him.

“Suit yourself,” Soi Fon said with a noncommittal shrug, and closed the door behind her, the same blue shimmer skittering across the surface of that door as what was seen on the cell.

The time passed painfully slow.  Some of them managed to doze from time to time, though none of them got a particularly restful night’s sleep.

They were roused in the morning by the sound of keys in the latch, and Captain Soi Fon, looking as severe and proper as ever, stepped in.  Her jailers followed and stood at attention as she unlocked the cells and ushered the prisoners into the center of the cluster of armed guards.  Grimmjow stretched and cracked his shoulder, setting off a machine-gun succession of popping vertebrae in his back.  He sighed with a satisfied smile; Hallibel only rolled her eyes and nodded for him to get moving behind Ulquiorra, who was already leaving with the procession.

They moved through the streets of Seireitei, the Arrancar continuing to inspire fear and awe in their wake as they passed.  Some merely cowered; some clutched at the hilts of their asauchi, or in some cases, newly awakened zanupaktos.  Grimmjow spotted a particularly green recruit with a puddle gathering under the sole of one of his waraji, dampening the front of his hakama shamefully with urine as the extremely young man- really not more than a boy- trembled in terror.  Grimmjow was torn between the instinct to mock him, and a second, very different and unusual response; pity.  He turned away, and kept walking in silence.

It was not long before they arrived at the gates of Central 46, and everyone was ushered through into a large alcove.  Soi Fon paused before a set of doors before them.  “Only the prisoners and their counsel may continue from this point.  The rest of you, wait here.”

The massive doors opened and swallowed them up, shutting with a _bang_ that had a weight of authority and severity to it.  Matsumoto huddled on a bench, and Hallibel reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly, giving her a wan smile, which the other woman returned.  They waited like that, Grimmjow leaning against the wall, for hours and hours.

At long last, one of the massive doors creaked open.  Matsumoto looked up, anticipation thick in her expression.  Captain Soi Fon poked her head out.  “You are requested to stand as witnesses,” she said, and waited as the three exchanged confused looks, then followed her into the vast and towering amphitheater of Central 46.

Matsumoto considered that the “court room” must have been designed to instill terror, and a sense of insignificance in the accused.  Tiers of balconies ascended steeply upward, encircling on all sides.  The judges sat behind screens, shadowing their faces so as not to be seen, thus adding to the disconcerting air of the place, and giving the judges complete anonymity.

Matsumoto was prodded to the center of the amphitheater by Soi Fon, and questions began to shoot out from the judges.  She could never tell exactly who had asked which question, not only because of the screens, but the general acoustics of the room caused the sound to bounce around crazily, so that she could only sometimes determine a general direction which the question had come from.

She had thought things must have been going well, since the trial had been progressing for so long.  It stood to reason that if Central 46 had determined just to sentence the accused of guilt, they would have done so swiftly, wouldn’t they have?

But as the questions rang out from the faceless judges, she began to doubt this.  She wasn’t sure what direction they were taking, and some of the questions seemed unrelated to anything at all.  Finally, one of the judges called for a retelling of events from the night of Gin’s resurrection, in her own words, which she provided in as much detail as she was able.  She told them of the troubling dreams she’d been having, also.  She made sure to explain the situation regarding the botched delivery of the letter, and to clarify that Kisuke had feared for her life at that point, acting urgently in an attempt to save her.  By the end of her account, there was a great deal of whispered murmuring going on behind those screens, which caused her stomach to churn anxiously.

She was finally asked to step down, and Hallibel and Grimmjow were called forward.  Voices again called out from the shadows.  “You two worked with Ichimaru in Hueco Mundo, under the traitor Aizen?”

“Yes,” Hallibel called out in a strong, confident voice.

“And what job did Ichimaru perform, while under the rule of the traitor Aizen?”

Hallibel and Grimm looked blankly at one another at this, and Grimmjow rubbed the back of his neck.  “Honestly, we never saw him do much of anything, other than sip tea with Aizen.  It was Tozen and Aizen who were directly involved with the creation of the Espada, and other stuff like that,” Grimmjow offered with a shrug.

More murmuring from the judges, and Matsumoto felt a spark of hope kindle in her heart.

“What did you think when you heard that Ichimaru had betrayed Aizen?”

Grimmjow crossed his arms and snorted.  “Any one of us would have done the same.”

Shocked gasps came from the judges, and Hallibel stepped forward to explain.  “The Arrancar alliances with Aizen were tenuous, at best.  It is in our nature to be distrustful, and Aizen made sure to surround himself in people who were loyal to him only so long as it served their own best interests.  Perhaps this was so he did not feel remorse when he cut us down after we had served to further his own agenda, though in hindsight, I doubt that man ever felt remorse for any of the atrocities he committed.”  She looked to Grimmjow, who nodded in agreement.  “Some of us had a sense of loyalty to one another, a sort of camaraderie, and since we have been resurrected, we have formed a strange sort of family with the humans and Shinigami we associate with.”

The judges murmured amongst themselves again, and a voice called out, “Do you mean to say that your nature has been changed, since your resurrection?”

Hallibel pondered this for a moment, but it was Grimmjow who stepped in to answer this one.  “If you’d been given a second chance to make things right with the people who mattered the most to you, don’t you think you’d change some too?”  His eyes were fixed hard on the floor, hands shoved deeply in his pockets, and Hallibel regarded his words curiously.  “We were all brought back because we had connections to each other, and things that were left unfinished when we died.  That’s no different with Gin and Rangiku, except the fact that he was becoming a Hollow, and the shop keeper expelled that.”

Whispering erupted, and one of the judges called out, “We will deliberate.  Please adjourn to the antechamber, to await our final ruling.”  Everyone was ushered out the doors, to wait for them to come to a conclusion.

Matsumoto hugged Gin when he came out.  “What do you think?” she asked worriedly, hoping that the judges had perhaps been clearer with their intentions during the private portion of the trial.

But Gin only shrugged and shook his head.  “Ah dunno, Rangiku.  They were willin’ tah listen, at least, tah our defense.  That’s sumthn’.”

They milled around tensely, not sure how long it would be before they came to a final ruling.  It was only a matter of minutes, which caused them all great trepidation.  That was either very good, or very bad.  They all filed back into the court room and waited anxiously.

“Regarding the exile Urahara Kisuke, and the charges of defying a direct order from Central 46 by resurrecting an accomplice of the traitor Sokuke Aizen,” a booming voice called into the chamber.  “He is determined to have acted in accordance with the goals of the Gotei 13, being the extermination of evil, including Hollow, and to have acted decisively in the pursuance of rescuing an ally from danger.  He is cleared of all charges, and ordered to henceforth cease resurrections of any persons posing possible threats to Soul Society.”

The cheering that erupted from the gathered individuals was made that much louder by the echoing of the chamber, likely unaccustomed to such spontaneous outbursts of revelry.  They were quickly silenced by the pounding of a gavel somewhere above.

“Regarding Gin Ichimaru, the former captain of the Third Division, and his charges of treason against Soul Society by defection from the Gotei 13 and association with the convicted traitor Sosuke Aizen,” the voice proclaimed once silence had been restored, “Gin Ichimaru is found guilty of these charges.”

A dark heaviness descended on the room, and the only sound that was to be heard was the choked cry of Matsumoto as she reached in desperation toward Gin.  _No,_ she begged silently.  _Don’t let it be this way, please…_

“However,” the voice continued, and her heart began to pound wildly in her chest.  “In light of evidence brought before this court today, it has been determined that Gin Ichimaru was not in his right mind, as evidenced by his betrayal also to Aizen, proving ultimately his loyalty to only one individual; Rangiku Matsumoto.  Damaged by childhood trauma, we have concluded Gin Ichimaru to have been criminally insane from his earliest youth, driven to his acts by grief.  His intentions to protect his friend, while poorly executed, were noble in their intent, and he ultimately acted as an ally of Soul Society in his attempt to slay Aizen himself.  He is not determined to have participated in any activities specifically contrary to the motives of Soul Society during the period of his defection, and so, will be pardoned by way of insanity.  He is…”

Whatever sentence the judge was handing down was lost in the uproar of the celebration.  Matsumoto wept and clung to Gin, who held her just as tightly, sighing in relief.  “It’s done,” he whispered into her hair.  “Yer safe now, Rangiku.  No more cryin’, alright?”

She sniffled and nodded, letting his shihakusho soak up the last of her tears.

 

WWWWWWWWWW

 

                Gin and Rangiku strolled hand in hand beneath the persimmon trees he had planted so many years ago around the Third Division’s office.  Gin plucked one of the waxy, fragrant blossoms from a low-hanging branch, and tucked it into Matsumoto’s hair.  She grinned softly at him, and sat beneath the tree, leaning back against the trunk.  Gin lowered himself to the ground beside her, and she leaned over and rested her head in his lap, staring up at the blue sky peeking through the lace of the branches and leaves.

                “Are ya happy, Rangiku?” Gin asked, running his fingers through her long, blonde hair.

                The smile she gave him was answer enough, but she replied anyway.  “Of course I am, Gin.  You know that.  I couldn’t be happier.”  She reached up and stroked his cheek, and he gifted her with one of his rare, true smiles, the ones he saved only for her, which only widened her own.  She sighed deeply.  “We’re so lucky to have one another, you know that?”

                He nodded.  “Yah, trust me, ah know.”  He looked up at the branches spread out above him and leaned his head lazily back against the tree.  “Th’ trees’re bloomin’,” he commented.  “They woulda survived without me here tah care for’em.”

                Matsumoto hummed thoughtfully.  “Maybe…  But now that you’re back, they won’t just survive.  They’ll _thrive._ ”  He glanced down at her, and she caught the briefest flash of those brilliant blue eyes of his.  She patted his thigh.  “Come on, I’ll walk you back to work.  Your lunch break is about over.”

                They heaved themselves up from beneath the serenity of the persimmon grove, and strolled leisurely away from the offices of Division Three.

                Mayuri Kurotsuchi waited impatiently in front of the Twelfth Division gate, arms crossed, tapping his foot pensively.  When Gin approached, the captain threw his hands up in exasperation.  “What am I going to do with you?  Hmm?  You’re a minute and twenty four seconds late returning from your break.  It’s unprofessional.  Get back to work,” he snapped pensively, and turned on his heel, storming back toward the S.R.D.I., muttering, “I can’t believe they sentenced him to work under me…  That’s a punishment for _me,_ not him…  I’m a scientist, not a babysitter.  This is a mockery of my authority and genius…”

                Matsumoto pursed her mouth in concern.  “Are you really in trouble?”

                Gin just smirked.  “Nah.  He’s a lotta hot air.  He would never admit tah it, but he likes havin’ me aroun’.  Ahm a pritty bright fella, ya know…  We come up with some good ideas t’gether, him an’ me.”  He planted a kiss on Matsumoto’s cheek, and waved.  “See ya after work.”

                She smiled and nodded, and turned to get back to her own division.  Her Soul Pager went off just then, and she fished it out of a pocket in her hakama, flipping it open.  It was a text message from Hallibel: _Urahara invited us all to dinner at the Shoten, be there at 6._

Matsumoto smiled, and clicked her thumbs over the buttons as she texted a reply:  _Count Gin and me in, see you at 6._   She tucked the pager back into her pocket and hummed happily as she continued back to her division, thinking about how Hallibel had been right.  She had told Central 46 during the trial that the Arrancar had formed a strange connection with the humans and Shinigami they associated with, and it was true.

                It wasn’t really such a strange concept after all though, Matsumoto considered.  In the Rukongai, the families were always constructed of adopted members, who drew together for the safety provided in numbers, but primarily, because of the comfort to be found in being surrounded in people who understood your story.

                They had become part of a peculiar family tree of sorts, with Gin and Matsumoto being the newest members to be warmly welcomed into their embrace. _Like many branches, all grafted on to the same trunk,_ she thought, as she touched the persimmon blossom in her hair with a soft smile.

 

THE END

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1*- The shikomizue (仕込み杖?, literally "prepared cane") or 'jotō' (杖刀 literally "staff sword") is a Japanese swordstick. It is most famous for its use by the fictional swordmaster Zatoichi.
> 
> The name shikomi-zue is actually the name of a type of mounting; the sword blade was placed in a cane-like mounting (tsue), to conceal the fact that it was a sword.
> 
> WWWWWWWWWW
> 
> Ah, so happy to have finished this one! It sat on the back burner for a LONG time! So thankful to everyone who turned out in support of this piece, especially Angelus Erreare, whose recent discovery of this story, and subsequent review, was part of the final push to finish it. In the timeline of the Resolution!’verse, this story overlaps parts of Urahara’s Arrancar Rehabilitation Center, and extends some beyond it, but comes BEFORE Pina Colada Espada, if anyone is interested.
> 
> I make no money for my writing, but if you enjoyed this story, please, you may ‘pay’ me for my efforts with the “Author Currency” of a nice review. The more specific and detailed a review it is, the more value it has to me. Your reviews are ultimately an investment in my writing, because each one encourages me toward spending more of myself and my time on writing new pieces.
> 
> Thank you for reading (and reviewing!). Speak to you again soon,
> 
> ~KaiBlueOtaku

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Wow, I’ve been stalled out on this story for the longest time! I went on a reading bender yesterday, and then while writing Chapter 3 of The Ties That Bind Us, and working so much with Matsumoto, I got inspired again to wrap up the first chapter of this. I’m so happy with it.  
> This will overlap in the next chapter into the last bit of one of my other stories, Urahara’s Arrancar Rehabilitation Center, telling a slightly different and more detailed view of the events there. This was supposed to be a two-shot, but I see this now going at least 3 chapters, because of overlap and plot development points I touched on in The Ties That Bind Us.  
> Thank you for reading, please take the time to leave me a review, if you enjoyed it!  
> Speak to you soon,  
> ~KaiBlueOtaku


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